


Cherry Syrup

by ammehsuor



Series: Cough Drop Kisses [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Blowjobs, Caretaking, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Just to be safe, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sickfic, bitch I mean it, kink stuff gets chaotic in my house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 10:11:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14566767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ammehsuor/pseuds/ammehsuor
Summary: Temperatures rise in Akechi's apartment.Sequel to White Pepper.





	Cherry Syrup

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, this shit again lmao  
> filth-tainted sequel dedicated to my pals from the shuake bb, who are enablers of my bad behavior. xoxo  
> (if you haven’t read White Pepper then i STRONGLY recommend you do that first in order to understand what you’re in for here)

Although Akechi prepped the bedside table with tissues, medicine, and an alarm clock with double settings, he still didn’t sleep well the night before. Perhaps it was a mix of anticipation for the next day and anxiety regarding everything he’s missing at work and school, but his alarm was set for eleven in the morning and he didn’t intend on changing that. It was a sickeningly dewy nine o’clock before he passed out.

Texting Akira after the jarring alarm was enough to make him giddy, but not enough to keep him awake after two empty hours of sleep. The moment his phone drops onto the bed with the sealed promise of their afternoon plans, Akechi flops back into the pillows and lets his eyes drift shut.

_Just a few more minutes._

* * *

Of all the things Akechi expects to wrench him out of sleep, a phone call from a number besides Akira’s isn’t one of them.

“…’lo?” He blinks, trying to readjust to the sunlight.

“Ah, Akechi-san, good morning!” The cheery voice of the repairman from a few days ago rattles in his head. He tries to perk up and sound a little less sick, because his voice just after waking is honestly… well, pathetic.

“Good morning. Did you have a report on the thermostat?”

“Yes sir. We got it fixed earlier than anticipated. Finding the old plates was the hardest part, I suppose.” His voice fades for a moment, calling back commands to the other workers for their cleanup. “I hope your stay in the hotel was decent. We left a portable humidifier in the room to cycle the air since we couldn’t crack the windows. You can hang onto it, if you’d like. It’s pretty toasty in here now.”

Akechi sits up. Frankly, as much as he loves hotel pillows and breakfasts, he doesn’t really want to stay here all day if it’s not necessary. The apartment has his clothes and books and _some_ food, at least.

He thanks the repairman and shuffles out of bed, pulling on a coat and shoving everything into his overnight bag. The lobby is even warmer than the room, and isn’t drenched in sunlight, so he grabs a few mini blueberry muffins from the complimentary breakfast area and heads out.

The sunlight grates on Akechi’s early-morning headache, but he can’t deny how pretty everything looks. Mounds of snow piled around the town’s main street glisten like gold and crackle under the footsteps of salarymen on their way to the office. He takes out his phone and types out a message to Akira.

[12:20] _Hello again. Change of plans. Would you mind meeting up at my apartment instead? The repairs are finished and I’d rather be with my own blankets and medicines._

[12:22] _lol u say that as if you have any medicine worth noting. i can bring you some though. just send me your address_  

[12:23] _also thank goodness you texted me again bc i passed right the fuck out after we talked_

Akechi is relieved that Akira suffered the same fate. He approaches the apartment soon after to be met with a burst of warm, clean air, smelling faintly of brand-new filters and plastic. He enjoys the renewed atmosphere and tidies up a bit before Akira finally knocks on the door.

_Shit, I haven’t even changed clothes yet._

Akechi invests a solid minute in combing his hair and opens up, dark circles be damned.

It turns out he was fussing for no reason, since the state of Akira nearly knocks him flat on his ass _._

Akechi hopes that this was worth it. The boy stepping into his apartment is an absolute mess: red, watery eyes, mussed-up hair, pale and sniffly and… beaming over at Akechi while he drops a plastic bag on the kitchen counter.

“Morning. Cute apartment.” He reaches into the bag and tosses over a bottle of juice. “I brought some stuff that might come in handy.”

God, his voice is  _wrecked_ with congestion _._ The concern blooming in Akechi’s chest is tempered by the oddly arousing reminder that he was the cause of this. It’s certainly… new. Certainly interesting. Suddenly he doesn’t care about going back to bed unless Akira is coming along, too.

He’s probably not being subtle anyway, but Akira senses the urgency and pulls the detective in for a few mind-melting kisses before surrendering to a scratchy cough. Akechi studies him with wonder.

“You sound… terrible.”

“I know. You really did a number on me, huh?”

The kisses quickly turn slow and deep, Akira’s hot breaths grazing Akechi’s cheeks with every press of their lips as they slowly move towards the bed, winded from the prominent humidity.

“Mm. But it’s a good look on you, and you _did_ ask for it. Begged for it, really, although it was less with words and more with actions.”

The detective is already conceding to playing hands he doesn’t completely understand, but he assumes there will be plenty of time for learning the rules. It’s hard to believe he didn’t pick up on all this earlier. Akira had an aura of secrecy around him in general, but the sheer suspicion in his demeanor the moment Akechi showed up in disarray for their little “date”… he almost feels stupid now.

Pushed down without a struggle, Akira squirms under him looking so flushed and tired, and he feels stupid for not noticing how easy it would be to work with this.

_I did this._

_He’s like this because of me._

The concept undoubtedly hits a sweet spot. It couldn’t hurt to clarify his position one last time, though, so he noses down into Akira’s neck, completely disregarding the creeping itch in his sinuses.

“Did you get what you wanted?”

The low hum he gets in response only encourages him further.

“I’m glad. But you do realize you didn’t need to be so shy about it, right? If you had asked, I would’ve been happy to share.” He grinds down, admiring the way Akira’s hips immediately rise to meet him as if magnetized. “Although I guess that’s part of the fun. Not knowing whether I’ll infect you on accident, or whether a bit more encouragement is in order.”

Akira’s scarf comes to mind. That brief glimpse of humiliation- to Akira, it must have snapped the final string holding him together. The mere memory of such a desperate reaction makes Akechi’s head spin.

Between work and his studies, it’s been an eternity since Akechi has gotten to mess around with anyone. Maybe that’s why his vision is going hazy like this. Akira tastes different from yesterday: heady and medicinal and so, so _good,_ and Akechi suddenly remembers he never took any of the cough syrup on his nightstand. Too late now; he has something much more enticing to drink in.

“You love it, huh?” Akechi works on the collar tight around Akira’s neck. “Being marked like this? Every time you look in the mirror, or hear your own voice, you see traces of _me_ all over you.” He pops the shirt buttons open with gentle fingertips. “Surely your boss knows I got you sick. How about other people? Do you enjoy telling them?”

Akira’s eyes flicker to the side, shimmering with silver.

“…Maybe.”

“Oh, good. Because as much as I like the idea of being your little secret, I like the thought of being _prominent_ on you so much more.”

Akira shivers. It’s a harsh spasm, head to toe, forcing his thumbs to dig into Akechi’s waist and pull him down.

“No matter how I gave it to you… everyone knows you’re mine.”

The possessive talk finally gets to Akira, judging by the force he uses to pull Akechi in for a much deeper kiss. It’s sweet and does a lot to keep the fire coiling between his legs, but eventually he runs out of breath and shifts to let Akira nip along his throat. The floral scent of his shampoo is relaxing; Akechi could stay here forever, fall asleep just like this, neither of them getting off, and he wouldn’t even be upset about it. Making out would suffice, right?

_Yeah, of course. Just keep moving your hips. It might be enough at this rate._

He’s about to label the pleasant, fuzzy feeling in his head as exhaustion, but gets ripped away from that notion when it flares to life as a burning irritation instead.

He barely manages to move; Akira’s body tenses as Akechi lets out a fit of harsh sneezes into the crook of his neck.

“Oh.” The word snaps in two on Akira’s lips.

Akechi could’ve lived a full life without that little outburst. He stays hidden, blush burning as he tries to stop his nose from running with half-assed sniffles. “God, I’m sorry. That caught me off guard.”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to… do that.”

“Huh?” Akechi leans back and cocks his head. Akira fidgets, clearly wishing he hadn’t commented in the first place.

“Hiding. You don’t have to do that. You can just… you know.”

_You know._

The mortification is gone as quick as it came.

Akechi’s smile is pure fake innocence. “Hm. No, I don’t know. Could you demonstrate for me?”

Goodness, Akira’s reactions get more and more priceless every time. Akechi finds himself wondering what would happen if the tables were turned. It’s a devious enough idea to make him jump at it, just to find out if _maybe_ …

He gives Akira’s nose a feather-light kiss to encourage a little desperation before it’s noticed. The obvious sensitivity convinces him that they must be sick with the same cold; Akira twitches from the attention, breath hitching as his hand leaves Akechi’s side.

Akechi grabs his wrist a second too late, clicking his tongue as the sneeze explodes in a rather well-contained spray of germs.

“Excuse you. If I can’t cover, neither can you.”

“Ugh… I guess that’s fair.” Akira inspects the fluid webbed on his hand, eyes glistening with mischief. “But that reminds me… you were so generous to me yesterday. I need to return the favor.”

Akira reaches into his pocket for a travel bottle of milky white lubricant. He squeezes a good amount into his palm, letting it run down his fingers and string between them. The liquid drips like molasses onto Akechi’s heated skin; it lands in a burst of cold and instantly warms, sliding down towards his thighs while Akira takes his time, stripping fabric away and finally wrapping around Akechi’s length to pump with deliberate, calculated strokes. The brunette collapses forward with a sigh as his partner’s unoccupied hand runs up his back and begins massaging in circles.

Embarrassingly, the press of fingers between tight knots in his shoulders brings out louder moans than the attention being lavished on his cock. Akechi’s never had a true massage, but there’s no way a professional could compete with a gorgeously sick Akira working through the heavy ache all along his neck and shoulders, rolling the tension out of his muscles until pain disintegrates into white-hot pleasure.

He already wants to come so badly, to add to the mess dripping on the bed between them, but the pressure keeps his mind sharp on the sensation of fever-kissed skin.

“That good, huh?” Akira whispers against his ear. “Consider it a reward for being so perfect. I really got lucky with you.”

He takes a moment to spread the lube to his other hand and reaches back around, leaving a sticky trail all the way to Akechi’s sensitive opening. He’s nothing but careful in working up to two fingers, adjusting to the rhythm of the brunette’s hips and pathetic, scratchy whimpers. The second Akira brushes a tender spot hidden at just the right angle, Akechi shatters.

“F-fuck, _ah_ … you can press a little harder…” He lets his vision fade to black and zones in on the feeling starbursting through his entire body with every thrust.

“Of course. Anything you want, it’s yours.” The pressure builds as promised. “I wanted to spoil you all day yesterday. Could’ve fucked you senseless in the hotel room after you came out in that cute little sweater, but god, you’re worth the wait…”

Akechi barely needs to put forth any effort to reach his limit. The feeling of being so safe and _desired_ under Akira’s ministrations tears his composure to pieces. He comes with a shaky moan, rutting against the hand working his cock until he goes lightheaded.

The instant he’s released, Akechi is palming at the clasp of Akira’s pants.

“Hey, just… just a second. You sure you’re okay with this? You don’t have to…”

“What do you mean, am I ‘okay’?” Akechi laughs. “I’m better than okay. The idea of me wrecking you turns you on so much. I’m honored.”

“I’m not pushing you too far? I don’t want to freak you out—”

“You won’t. I think it’s adorable, actually. Yongen-Jaya’s favorite cute barista is secretly a kinky little _slut._ ” Akechi’s panting exacerbates the high-pitched sound coming from his chest. “I waited long enough to learn that. How could I not enjoy it?”

Even now, Akira’s eyes are clouded with doubt; it’s evident in the way he won’t meet Akechi’s gaze for more than a second. _He’s so nervous, even after that?_  This boy was impossible sometimes.

Akechi takes the opportunity to start reciprocating, shushing Akira’s questioning stutters. He’s genuinely terrified of passing out if he stops moving or lets the adrenaline die, so he slips down to the foot of the bed and tugs Akira’s boxers to get to the swollen length already dripping with obscene amounts of precum. It’s a brief pause to admire and tuck loose hair behind his ear before the head pushes past Akechi’s lips and he gathers the mess with a few swirls of his tongue, relishing in the sounds coming from above him, gauging how much he can reasonably take before going further.

Exhaustion pools in the pit of his stomach, dragging down his eyelids just enough to keep him focused on Akira’s length disappearing down his aching throat. He could probably suffocate on the sensation of it being so full and tight. Somehow, the slick precum is soothing, coating the back of his tongue and improving the glide like thick honey. Curious. If he can finish Akira off with his mouth alone, letting him come down his throat just like this, would it feel even better?

In a rush to find out, he swallows a bit too soon and has to pull away with a spluttering cough. It rakes against his lungs until he can catch his breath; Akira bends down to rub his back almost immediately, cooing in reassurance.

“Easy, easy. You can slow down a little bit, okay? I’m excited too, but we're not in any hurry.”

His voice carries Akechi through the horrid coughing until he can breathe relatively normally. It’s hardly a few seconds before Akira is flat on his back again, cock enveloped in the warm, wet heat of Akechi’s mouth.

The detective is determined, that’s for sure. He doesn’t plan on stopping again no matter what happens; he isn’t quite so fragile, even with a lead weight pressing down on his sinuses and that god-forsaken itch getting even _worse._ He can barely catch it through the congestion, but there’s a sharp scent of woodsy soap and cologne and— …oh.

Perhaps things are about to get interesting.

He leans down as far as his sore throat will allow, taking in the scent until the irritation becomes straight-up unbearable. It’s a long shot for sure, but Akechi is far too curious to let this pass. Embarrassment is a fading ember in the back of his mind by now. All he can focus on are the impending pulses of warm fluid just seconds from spilling over.

The sneezes creep up on him so quickly that he only catches the reflex to pull back before launching into a fit, knowing full well his hands are too _occupied_ to cover anything. It’s exhausting and loud and slightly painful, but the expression on Akira’s face as he parts his lips again is absolutely worth it. The poor thing barely lasts another ten seconds before his hips snap forward, fingers twisted in Akechi’s hair as he comes with a sweet moan.

Most of the liquid slides down Akechi’s throat in hot, languid spurts (and he notes how much it truly does help the soreness), but he releases Akira a moment too early and takes the rest on his face, cum mixing in with the viscous mess already dripping there.

“ _Fuck_.” Akira lifts his head to get a good look at Akechi, and whatever he sees, it makes him fall back down instantly with a weak chuckle. “God, you are so fucking hot.”

“Mm? You like that too?” Akechi cringes at how raw his voice sounds. He half-heartedly wipes at his face before crawling up the bed for a sloppy kiss. “You’re so disgusting.”

“For sure. But whose idea was it in the first place?” Akira laughs, plucking a tissue from the bedside table and cleaning up the remaining mess between them. “I didn’t even get a heads up.”

Akechi curls into Akira’s side, still buzzing in the afterglow. “Obviously. Where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were getting pretty creative earlier. I don’t mind the thought of you teasing me, but maybe you’re not ready to handle the responsibility?”

“ _Pfft_ — please. You’re kidding yourself if you think this is the worst I can do.”

“Don’t bluff. I bet you don’t even own a blindfold.”

“Dresser in the corner. Second drawer from the bottom. You’ll find more than just a blindfold.”

“Wait, really…?”

The filthy ideas spill around them like sand. Akechi wants it all, wants to keep swapping cotton-mouthed kisses and exploring this new realm of intimacy, but Akira is _soft_ and _warm_ and the overwhelming need for sleep shuts his body down before he can even offer a warning.

* * *

 

 Akira wakes him with a tap on the head sometime shortly after. Akechi cracks one eye open, seeing the sheepish grin overhead and stretching awake with an undignified groan.

“You just gonna sleep the entire day away?”

“Hmn.”

“Yes, quite. Very profound.” Akira rests a finger under Akechi’s chin to get his attention again, but he’s silenced with a warm kiss. It’s oddly chaste considering how riled up they were earlier; even Akechi looks surprised at himself.

“Sorry. I was just thinking… my favorite part of this is not having to hold back from kissing you.” Akechi curls into the pillows again. “Although that probably sounds quite silly, after everything.”

“Not at all. You’re too cute.” Akira brushes some hair away from Akechi’s forehead. “Oh, by the way: I prepped some food for later. It’s in the fridge, so we can finish making it whenever you want. Maybe we could actually watch through an entire movie during dinner this time.” He winks and holds up a thermometer.

Akechi opens his mouth obediently. The plastic is stiff and cool under his tongue; it beeps quietly after a minute, and Akira inspects the reading.

“Thirty-eight. Lower than mine. All things considered, I thought I’d be worse off than you… go figure.”

The sound Akechi makes while Akira plops down next to him is less than graceful. “I couldn’t sleep at all. There was a lot on my mind, so I can’t imagine that helped my case much.”

“Want to talk about it, honey?”

There’s a hint of playfulness in the pet name, but it plants a seed of warmth in Akechi’s heart anyway. He rolls over and tosses an arm across Akira’s middle.

“Maybe later; it’s nothing major. Stressing about work can wait.”

Akira lets the brunette bury his face into the front of his sweater, stroking though his hair carefully.

“As you wish. In that case, it’s definitely naptime.”

 

One last handful of affectionate whispers, and the lights go out.

**Author's Note:**

> just let me know if i converted you to the club!!!! thanks


End file.
